Joseph is Dead
by TheSender
Summary: The story of how Joseph Sullivan died. Completely AU. Please review. Rating may change as story progresses.
1. Day One

"**Joseph is Dead"**

**Day One**

Emile Danko looked down at the file. The name at the top was Joseph Sullivan.

He looked up at Nathan Petrelli and asked, "Anymore information then his name and that you want him dead?"

Petrelli shook his head," That's all you need to know. He's in New York as far as we know. I want confirmation of his death by next Tuesday."

Tuesday. That gave him six days. Not much time, but do-able.

"I'll get right on it, Senator."

Twenty minutes later, Danko was in his D.C. apartment, packing his things and preparing for the short plane ride too N.Y.C. He had booked a room at a hotel and arranged for a shuttle to pick him up when he arrived. Danko hefted his bag onto his shoulder, activated the alarm, and left.

He spent most of his time on the plane searching through the old Company archives, looking for any information as to the ability of Joseph Sullivan. He guessed either the man had an ability that was too classified for his eyes or that the government had no clue what the guy could do. Danko sighed as he shut down the portable computer.

"Stupid idiots. You don't send someone into the field with this little information. Will they ever learn?"

After the laptop case was securely stowed in the overhead compartment, Emile Danko plugged in the free headphones, flipped to the music channel, and drifted off into what was likely the only sleep he would get that week.

An hour later, he awoke to the pilot announcing that they would be landing momentarily and to fasten their seat belts. Danko straightened in his seat and gripped the arms tightly. In the air, he was fine, taking off or landing, however, was a different story. His therapist attributed this to having issues putting his life in someone else's hands. Danko just said he didn't like the turbulence.

When the plane was finally on the ground, Danko grabbed his shoulder bag and hurried off the plane, trying to avoid the slow-moving crowd of passengers. He walked through the airport and found a shuttle driver waving a sight with Mr. Danko scrawled across it. He walked up to the man, a tall guy in his mid twenties, probably, showed him his I.D. and entered the backseat. Danko declined the driver's offer to put the black shoulder bag in the truck, instead putting it in the seat next to him, with a hand resting protectively on top. No one was getting his file, that was for sure.

It took a half hour to reach the Travel King Motel. It was painted a revolting green color which was peeling off the textured walls. The outside had severely cracked concrete all around and the neon sign was only half lit. _It looks as bad as the on line photo_, he thought. But for twenty bucks a night, it was as good as he was going to get. He stopped by the front desk, showed the manager the reservation paper he had printed out from his apartment and was handed the key to room number 106.

Danko shoved the antique silver key into the rusted lock. It clicked. He cautiously pushed open the door. When you dealt with "specials" on a daily basis, you learned to be careful. He gave the small room the once over. It had a twin bed, a nightstand, a desk, a closet and a bathroom. He set his bag down on the bed and began to unpack.

He set up his laptop computer at the oak desk and neatly hung his clothes in the closet. Danko then put his shaving kit and personnel effects in the small bathroom. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was ten past eleven at night. There was little point in beginning his search for Joseph Sullivan so he set the alarm for six a.m. and settled into the lumpy mattress.


	2. Day Two

"**Joseph is Dead"**

**Day Two**

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Emile Danko, who was already awake, slapped his hand down on the silent button. He walked to the bathroom in his gray T-shirt and sweat pants and slipped on his black bathrobe. Danko splashed some cold water on his face and began his usual routine: shower, shave, get dressed, and go. He slipped into his black suit pants, gray button down shirt, and black sweater vest. Before putting on his jacket, he grabbed his concealed shoulder holster and shoved his hand guns into it.

As he ambled down 7th Street, Danko went over the file. It said that Sullivan had last been seen in Central Park. Danko called for a cab and climbed in.

"Central Park," he said, curtly.

The driver looked in his rear view mirror at Danko. He was Indian with shoulder length hair and a young face. Danko looked at the Taxi license hanging from the mirror. "Mohinder Suresh". Danko raked his memory; he had seen this name before. _Oh well, probably a million other Mohinder Suresh's in New York,_ he thought. He brought his mind back to the problem at hand: the Intel on Sullivan was two days old, at least. Sullivan might not even be in New York anymore, never mind Central Park. The cab driver's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"That will be thirty-five dollars, sir."

Danko gave the man forty and was in too much of a hurry to wait for his change. With his paycheck, it wouldn't make much of a difference. Danko scanned the grassy area and spotted a homeless woman. She looked quite situated, which made it more likely that she had seen Joseph Sullivan. Hopefully, he'd done something to make himself memorable.

Danko walked over to the woman and did his best to look friendly.

"Good morning, ma'am. I was wondering if I might ask you some questions."

The gray haired lady nodded and he went on.

"I'm with the Department of Homeland Security. I'm looking for this man, Joseph Sullivan. He was reportedly last spotted in this vicinity. Have you seen him, by chance?"

She studied the picture that he had pulled out. "Why, yes I have, just yesterday. Joe's a nice boy. What on earth does the government want with him?"

Danko responded, "Could you be more specific, ma'am? Did you see him in the park or in the city or…"

"He walks in the park with me all the time. He told me he lives in that little trailer park on the other side of Central Park. He's very friendly, you know? What's he done to get himself in such trouble?"

"Thank you, this information has been very helpful. I would tell you more, but the rest is classified. Have a good day."

Danko walked away from the woman towards the other side of Central Park. He could see a few small trailers with people milling about them. He began walking towards them at a brisk pace.

When he arrived at Sam's Trailer Families he scouted out the manager's mobile home. He jogged over and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, a man around Danko's height but about one hundred pounds heavier answered the door.

"Yeah, what do ya want," asked the man irritably.

"I'm with the Department of Homeland Security. I've got information that a Joseph Sullivan lives here. I need his trailer number."

The man, presumably Sam, shook his head. "No way. That's personnel information. You want his number, you ask him."

Danko frowned. "I'm sorry, maybe you didn't hear me. I'm with the U.S. government and that information is crucial to my…investigation, Now if you won't give it to me, I'll be back with a warrant, and warrants take time, which I don't have. Now," he moved his jacket back slightly to reveal one of his hand guns, "are you going to give me his address or not?"

Moments later, Danko had Sullivan's address written as a side note in his file. He walked in the approximate direction of the trailer and arrived after a few minutes of searching. The mobile home was white and needed a good wash. It had a blue trim and a small garden in front. _Cute_, he thought, sarcastically.

Danko knocked on Joseph Sullivan's door. No one answered. He knocked again, harder this time. Still, no answer. Danko rummaged round in his pocket and pulled out the manager's master key. After unlocking Sullivan's door, he walked inside. The place was sparsely furnished, containing only a sleeper sofa, a table, a small kitchen, and a television. Danko walked into the kitchen. It seemed complete but lacked an oven. In its place was a large, scorched cookie sheet. He looked to his right and saw nearly one dozen discarded fire extinguishers. _Well either this Sullivan guy is a pyromaniac or his ability has something to do with fire. Great._

Danko stormed out of the trailer and pulled out his cell phone. He called Nathan Petrelli with the intention of lecturing him about proper mission information and equipment. Unfortunately, he got the Senator's voicemail. _Damn. I'll have a word with him when I get back._

Danko spent the rest of the day wondering around New York City, hoping to get lucky and find Sullivan. At ten p.m., he called it a day and returned to the motel. He changed into his night clothes and fell into bed.

"Who knew one man could be so much trouble?"


	3. Day Three

"**Joseph is Dead"**

**Day Three**

After getting ready, Danko set off to the local Fire station, hoping he'd be able to convince the Chief to let him borrow a fire proof vest. If Joseph Sullivan really did have some sort of fire ability, he didn't want to go home "well done".

Danko walked up to Fire Chief Axons.

"Sir, I'm with the Department of Homeland Security. I need to borrow a fire proof vest for an investigation I'm leading."

The Chief nodded and led Danko to an equipment room. The walls were tan and were mostly obscured by racks and racks of equipment. Axons sized him up and handed him a black and grey vest. It was light weight and could be hidden under his clothes. It wasn't much protection, but it would be enough to protect his abdomen from being scorched.

After acquiring the vest, Danko set off towards Sam's Trailer Families. Perhaps Sullivan would be home this time. Finding him was the hardest part of Danko's mission. He didn't have to bag and tag like he usually did. Sullivan just needed to be dead. One bullet to the head. Simple, fast, effective. Unless he was a healer, but Danko doubted that.

Danko didn't bother knocking this time; he just barged into Joseph Sullivan's living room. He looked around. _Damn, _he though sourly. He walked into the kitchen area. It smelled of smoke. _I must have just missed him._ He stormed out of the trailer and marched to the manager's trailer.

As Sam appeared at the door, Danko shouted, "Where's Sullivan? Come on, man, I need to know!"

The hulking figure shrank. "Jeez, dude, chill. He left about ten minutes ago."

Danko asked where he went. The manager told him that Sullivan went to his job, just like he did every Saturday.

"He's a clerk at Best Buy, I think. It's about a five minute walk if you cut through the back allies."

Danko started running full speed towards the electronics store. He didn't want to miss Sullivan.

Danko was out of breath when he reached Best Buy. He stood in front of the automatic glass door for a few seconds, huffing and puffing. When he was sure he could walk without passing out, Danko straightened his jacket and walked inside. Danko stopped and evaluated the store. Off to the left were display cases full of movies. Straight ahead was the video game department. On his right was his goal: the checkout counters. _Bingo, _he thought.

Danko walked over to the movie aisle and picked up the first video he saw "Ghostbusters". He then walked over to the counters. He spotted Sullivan and made a B-line for him. Sullivan, a man in his mid forties, smiled warmly at him, scanned the movie and bagged the picture.

"That'll be nine dollars, sir."

Dank put on his best fake smile and pulled the money out of his wallet. Truth be told, he didn't care for movies. The only reason he was purchasing this one was that he wanted to get a feel for Joseph Sullivan's physical aspects and personality. He seemed nice enough. _Not like the usual scum that I deal with, _Danko thought.

Before handing Sullivan the money, Danko gave him a brief once over. He wasn't overly muscular. His grey hair was thinning slightly and he stood a little less than six feet. Danko may have been on the short side, standing only at five foot seven, but that didn't really matter if you were a good shot, which he was. Taking Sullivan out, wouldn't be a problem, assuming he didn't start shooting flames out of hands that is.

Danko muttered thanks to Sullivan, took the bag, and headed back to the motel, satisfied with the day's work.


End file.
